Something Simples
by AlibisDragon
Summary: This is a collection of short stories about the Sanji/Usopp pairing. They will range anywhere from friendship to strong yaoi, and the rating will change as such. The genre will also vary, from romance to drama, humor, AU and everything in between.
1. Fruit Salad

Hey guys! Yeah, yeah, I know. It's been literally years since I've written/updated anything. I'm really sorry! Life equals suck right now, but I'm slowly regaining my inspiration! Yay!

ANYway, this will eventually be a collection of SanUso ficlets I've written that I don't think are long enough to be given their own independent story status. Some of you may have already read some of these on livejournal. The first three will be from there, but within the next few days I hope to have some of my new stuff here as well!

WARNING: Just as a brief note to anyone who somehow managed to skip over the summary. This is a collection of SANUSO stuff. Or UsoSan, whatever you like to call it. These will range from friendship to serious yaoi, so if you don't like either the pairing or the whole yaoi aspect, please do us all a favor and turn back now while you still can! Thanks! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece or any related characters!

Enjoy! And thanks for reading!

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Fruit Salad

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Usopp, during his time on the Going Merry, had found that there were few things that, with the exception of Sanji on a warpath, could actually drive him from his work, his experiments, or, in the worst circumstances, the galley entirely.

One was _Zoro_ on a warpath, or perhaps _Nami_ on a warpath, or really... Nami just mildly displeased. Another was the smell of burnt popcorn, but that had only happened once, and then the chef had backed him into the wall and sworn him to secrecy with the threat of expensive leather up his backside.

Though he hadn't phrased it in quite so polite a manner…

The last, and most distressing thing was… well… a certain item…

A certain fruit…

Alright… a banana.

Maybe it wasn't so much the banana itself as it was the chef's rather… _intense_ liking for them. The blonde didn't simply eat that particular brand of produce, he _indulged_ in them, savored them with an enthusiasm that was, as far as Usopp was concerned, just shy of obscene.

Long, slender fingers would cradle the object with a touch far too soft for even the most delicate glass, blunt finger nails lifting, coaxing away the peel to bear the pale tissue laying beneath.

An eager mouth, looking strangely alien in lacking its typical cigarette, would seal itself neatly around the fruit's flesh, bowing, yielding to it's girth before he sank his teeth cleanly through, finally retreating with the very first portion of his treat held trapped between his still parted lips.

Only to return several long, painful seconds later, working with an aching slowness around the length of the fruit. With a subtle lift of his chin he would move back again, chewing thoughtfully and regarding the object within his hand through eyes half-lidded in pleasure.

And the _noises_. Oh, for the love of all things good and wholesome in the world, the noises. He didn't blatantly _mewl_, but it appeared as if he wanted to. He would tip his head back, displaying the graceful slope of his neck, taut muscles rippling as he swallowed, but the sound only ever escaped as a sigh, or a low hum of appreciation. Perhaps it was far too much of a distraction to put that little extra effort into an all out moan.

Usopp was immensely grateful for the strange, drunken haze that seemed to settle over the cook when he was busy with his favorite fruit, because that small lack of motivation was a godsend, a brief respite in the torture.

Oddly enough, the older pirate seemed to hate the bruises that he occasionally found, the darker, brown spots marring his otherwise flawlessly colored prize. His blue eye, focused so acutely on the task at hand, would narrow upon the imperfection, but true to his character, he would continue with no less the fervor of any other bite. And with the low tone that would grow from deep within his chest, he wasn't at all disappointed.

The marksman found himself constantly thanking Mother Nature, incredibly relieved that bananas were far less… moist… than most other fruits.

The sniper had always considered himself of rather sound mind and body, and of a rather pure nature, not one who had those impulsive tendencies he had heard most young men encountered. At times he was even proud of himself, attributing his immunity to his high level of self control, smirking at the way Zoro's eyes hounded after Luffy as he tossed his shirt carelessly to the breeze on a hot day, standing ever unaware and topless upon the deck.

But if the chef chose a banana from the fridge, the sharpshooter was gone before his comrade's fingers had time to draw back the skin, fleeing into the safety of the crow's nest. The vivid golden crescent was as damning as the signature scrawled carelessly upon a death warrant.

It had only taken one time, a span of barely five minutes for him to know that he could not bear witness to the blonde's display if he wanted to maintain his composure. Because for all of his so-called innocence, the images stirred within his mind by his crewmate were far from it, rousing nameless feelings and ideas from the depths of his body.

And while they were not truly unpleasant, they caused an uncertainty, a confusion, and a discomfort that sent the liar's senses reeling, had him dashing for anywhere cold and dark. More often than not his fevered thoughts would lead him to the bathroom, where he would lock the door and curl up on the tiled floor, his forehead pressed firmly to the cool ceramic of the tub as he sorted himself out.

Just this morning he had been forced into a hasty evacuation of the galley, startling the cook, his hand halfway to the bunch of condemning produce within the fridge, as he scrambled frantically for the door, not looking back even when his slingshot had clattered to the ground in his rush.

So when the chef beckoned him to the kitchen later that evening, he was wary, his gaze scouring the room for any sign of the offending food. He stepped cautiously through the entrance, slightly stunned to find Sanji waiting just inside the door for him, attention caught by the pack of cigarettes he was tucking back into his pocket.

"What'd you need me for?" Usopp questioned, sliding into his seat at the table when the cook motioned for him to do so. He waited patiently for a reply, stiffening only slightly when he thought he heard the sound of a door locking behind him. With his chest tightening in apprehension, he froze, reining in a shudder and suddenly feeling very cornered as the cook passed behind him.

As Sanji had stepped from his place beside the door, he brushed gently against the marksman's back, moving with a deliberate slowness on his way to the counter. "I need you to help me make tonight's dessert," he explained quietly; voice casual, calm, his tone even in a way that had goose-bumps spreading swiftly down the liar's bare arms.

"Oh?" He squeaked, flinching at the sound of his own strained response. The younger teen gulped audibly, listening carefully as the blonde shifted again, this time stopping at his right shoulder. "So, what are we making?"

The chef made no effort to answer, only stood in silence until his pause compelled the long-nose to lift his face, meeting his gaze. He saw the smaller boy stiffen, his dark eyes widening at the knowing look he offered, and at length, an almost predatory smirk took hold of the chef's lips.

Lifting a small sack that he had gathered from the countertop, he settled it squarely in front of the gunner and released the burlap cloth, letting the fabric pool and fall away to reveal the vibrant yellow fruit it had concealed. Delighting in the blush that flared upon the sharpshooter's face, he allowed himself one more moment, watching the color work it's way down the sniper's tanned throat.

Holding the boy's focus he leaned steadily downward, until he felt his friend's erratic breath upon his face. His mouth eased upward, smile growing into a feral grin, his eye sharp upon his comrade as he finally spoke.

"We're making fruit salad."


	2. Sacrifices

Hey guys! This took me a bit longer to take care of than I had hoped, but here you go! And thank you for the reviews! I really appreciate you guys letting me know what you think, and I plan to respond to each review to say thanks personally! I hope you like this next part as well!

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Sacrifices

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With a withering glance at the young man seated at the table behind him, the love cook sighed audibly, to be sure the sniper knew just how irritated he was, before resigning himself to his task.

He had always prided himself on creating marvelous recipes, manipulating ingredients in a way only he could. And if the flavor and aroma of his meals wasn't enough to draw in someone's attention, his focus and ability allowed him to produce dishes that looked every bit as spectacular as they tasted.

Needless to say, when he had learned of the sniper's favorite food, he had been more than a little miffed at its simplicity.

Grilled Cheese.

Grilled _fucking_ cheese.

Just the thought had the blonde reaching for another cigarette, setting the spatula aside as he shoveled into his pocket for a match. Closing his eyes, he pressed the stick between his lips and took a long, slow drag, smoke thickening the cloudy haze that already hung about his head as he exhaled.

"It's gonna burn if you don't watch it."

Twitching in annoyance, the chef bore down upon the growl that fought to slip from his mouth. 'Who does that moron think he's talking to?' He fumed internally, but none the less grudgingly lifted the frying pan from the stove. With a neat jerk of his wrist he had all three sandwiches piled cleanly in the center of a plate.

He cranked off the heat and dropped his utensils into the sink with a clatter. Carefully choosing a knife from the assortment he had arranged upon the counter, he turned his focus back to the boy's snack, eyes narrowed as he considered his possibilities.

If the sniper insisted on such a boring meal, one with a blatant lack of complexity that never failed to get a rise out of him, then he could still make up for it with his presentation.

Usopp waited patiently, one hand cupped beneath his chin as he leaned upon the table, the other drumming quietly against his knee. With his eyes trained upon the chef's hunched back, his shoulders set as he worked diligently, the marksman smiled thoughtfully. 'I wonder what he'll come up with today.'

The blonde had a knack for carving his food up into ornate designs, arranging them to form some abstract, but no less impressive, shape. Sometimes he'd find wild animals set out in front of him, intricate figures tumbling across a ceramic dish. Once he had even found an edible Merry.

Now prodding at a knot in the wooden tabletop, the liar started upright at the sound of someone clearing their throat. Blinking widely at the blonde who stood across from him, he watched as the young man paused, gathered himself into an awkward bow, and laid the platter before him with an exaggerated flourish.

Holding back a snort, Usopp watched his friend slouch into the seat across from him, his brow creased into a frown as he took another pull from his cigarette. "There. Eat up," he ordered gruffly.

With another smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, the long-nose lowered his gaze to his snack, taking in the smartly built tower that had grown from a mere grilled cheese sandwich. He'd never understand how the cook managed to do that.

Sanji leaned back, nursing his smoke slowly as he waited for the gunner's response. With an elbow on the table he propped one leg over the other, listening to the sounds of appraisal that carried across the table from his friend.

"I can't eat this."

Stunned, the older pirate straightened upon hearing those words. "You _what?_" He raved, glowering at his crewmate's honest gaze. "Care to repeat that?"

The sniper pointed down at his plate, regarding it with a pout as he offered an explanation. "I can't eat this," he repeated, eyeing the food as if in distaste.

"And why _can't_ you eat it?" The chef ground out, one hand fisting angrily upon the table as he leaned threateningly toward the marksman. "Is it not up to your standa-"

"It's too pretty."

Effectively silenced, the love cook quirked one delicately curled eyebrow at the smaller teen. "Too pretty?" He echoed, voice doubtful.

Nodding energetically, despite having ducked down in his seat, the liar added, "I don't want to ruin it. I can't eat it 'cause I feel like I'm destroying it…"

Sanji sighed. This happened every time he ever made the kid his special meal, so he shouldn't have been surprised. With a tired expression, he reached across the table and toppled his masterpiece with the flick of one finger. "There, now I'm the one who ruined it," he offered.

Usopp positively beamed at him from across the table, instantly settling over his treat with a pleased, "Thanks, Sanji!"

Humming in response, the blonde turned away to light another cigarette, busying his mouth to stifle the fond smile that threatened to take hold of his face. The strong affection he suddenly felt wasn't a foreign feeling, and it certainly wasn't an unpleasant one. But nonetheless, he found himself mourning the fact that he couldn't blame the stove for the warmth suddenly winding through his veins.


End file.
